


The Japanese Jekyll

by tipsytennant29



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Angst, Blood and Violence, Cults, Exorcisms, Horror, Light Peachshipping, Major Character Injury, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Possession, Revisionist Yugioh, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 08:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13585890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tipsytennant29/pseuds/tipsytennant29
Summary: A dark reimagining of Yu-Gi-Oh!’s beginning. Yugi’s been blacking out and missing memories. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, if he wasn’t waking up with someone else’s blood on his hands. As more and more supernatural occurrences permeate his life, Yugi looks to his friends to help exorcise the ghost that’s been tormenting him.Starts slow, but then gets pretty dark. Horror!AU.





	1. Blood

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first chapter after getting back on the fanfic horse. It's a bit straightforward, kind of recapping the early Yugioh manga as I set up the Horror!AU. But trust me, it's going to get dark fast.
> 
> As much as I love Yugi and Atem's relationship, I often thought Yugi accepted and forgave him too easily. He did terrible things in the beginning, and was really a scary force in the early chapters of the manga. I wanted to lean into that, and amp up the horror/danger of Atem's presence. And what if Yugi reacted normally, and stayed afraid of Atem? What would happen then?
> 
> MUSIC: "Losing My Mind" -- Mystery Skulls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yugi blacks out and is missing memories.

Hot water gushes into the bathroom sink, steaming as it pools in the basin. A teenaged boy hunches over the porcelain, scrubbing his hands desperately under the water. His bright purple eyes have a frantic look about them, a mixture of shock and terror, as he reaches for more soap with a bloodsoaked hand.

Drops of red mix with the swirling tap water, staining the liquid pink. This is the third time in the last two weeks that he’d woken up in the middle of the street, dazed and with no memory of the last several hours. He’d never been a sleepwalker before, and it chilled him to the bone to imagine who he’d talked to, or what these hands had done. 

The other times, he’d woken up next to mentally unstable people, lost in some schizophrenic fantasy. Sometimes he recognized them from school or the street. The first had been Ushio, a rather menacing bully hiding behind a fake smile and school government campaign. He’d taken it upon himself to “protect” Yugi from Jonouchi and Honda, two boys who’d once teased him. But his services were hardly charitable. Ushio had beaten Jonouchi and Honda to a pulp, unprovoked, and then demanded a large sum for his so-called gallant deed. 

Naturally, Yugi had been horrified, and jumped into the fray to protect his two classmates. As with just about everyone, Yugi considered them friends, regardless of any mutual sentiment. And naturally, having been denied his fun, Ushio turned his fists on Yugi. Pummelled him, sanding the poor kid down to nothing. Bruises sprawled across his face, arms, torso and legs, as his injuries began to puff and swell. But beatings and black eyes were nothing new to Yugi, and he gingerly picked himself back up again and shuffled home to the game shop. 

Puzzles and games were Yugi’s whole life, and not just because his family ran a game shop. In times of stress, they were a peaceful reprieve, a way to busy and challenge and distract his brain. And there was one puzzle in particular, whose solution eluded Yugi for the better part of eight years. The Millenium Puzzle...a mysterious Egyptian artefact that his grandfather brought home from an archaeological trip decades prior. 

No one knew what it was supposed to look like, and an ominous warning adorned its golden packaging. _The one who solves me shall inherit my dark knowledge and power_. His grandfather, Sugoroku, had translated it for him a long time ago, as his little fingers traced the hieroglyphs. Even then, it had an allure, like it called specifically out to him. When his wide, purple eyes found the symbol of Wadjet on the side, it felt like the rest of the world fell away. His periphery would blur, and he’d hear a deep, thrumming bass, a tribal heartbeat. 

Some nights, he’d steal away into the shadows, tip-toeing into the shop to marvel at the puzzle. He knew it was off-limits, but he couldn’t help but touch the golden pieces. A rush pulsed through his veins when his skin connected with the cold, shining metal. Maybe it was from his fear of the unknown, or the mysterious, dangerous vibe the puzzle exuded...but it was a thrill unlike any other. 

Yugi had never noticed, but Sugoroku watched him from the doorway one night. Expression full of intrigue and alarm, he watched Yugi interact with the pieces, his mouth set in a grim line. Like Gollum and the ring, he knew it was useless to keep the two apart. So one day, he gave Yugi the puzzle, reminding him, “No one has ever completed it. It’s rumored to be impossible.” 

_He’ll tire of it after a while_ , he thought to himself. _There won’t be anything to worry about_. 

For eight years, very little progress was made. The skeleton of the thing had begun to appear as time passed by, but it was far from complete. Every time Sugoroku passed his grandson’s room, a chill shot up and down his spine. Even partially complete, the golden puzzle gave off an evil, ominous vibe. Like something invisible was watching him from the corner of the room. 

But on the night Yugi returned home after seeing Ushio, bloodied and beaten, the puzzle all but solved itself. The challenge dissipated, and the pieces literally fell into place. Yugi’s eyes widened as the build came together in his hands, as if by magic. It was...a golden, inverted pyramid, connected to a worn leather rope. He knew the puzzle had to be thousands of years old, but the cord was surprisingly intact - no fraying edges or weakened structure. What was even more interesting, the gold surface bore no scratches, and was unmarred even by dirt or heat warp. It was too pristine. 

And as that last piece fell into place, the ridges pulsed with a bright yellow glow. An unsettling chill began to creep over him, and the temperature in the room began to drop. Although he was overcome with a strong urge to look over his shoulder, Yugi couldn’t tear his eyes away from the puzzle. The symbol of Wadjet shone intensely, drawing him in and arresting his attention. He wanted to scream, to drop the artefact and run, but found his body had gone numb. 

Tendrils of golden light began to radiate from the puzzle, snaking up his arms. It burned like a candle’s flame as it passed across his skin, and he cried out in surprise and anguish. His eyes squeezed shut against the pain, his teeth clenched as he grit through it. And just as he thought it couldn’t get any worse…

A solid, brilliant beam shot from the middle of the eye of Wadjet. It pierced Yugi’s forehead, searing white hot as it scorched his brain. All those beatings, those times he’d been punched or slapped...it was nothing compared to the intensity of the torture he now suffered. He wanted to rip away from his body, to shy away from that terrible burn. And suddenly, mercifully, he’d blacked out. Faded away into unconsciousness, overwhelmed. 

And as he disappeared into the numb embrace of sleep, he whispered his wish to the puzzle. 

_I wish to have friends. Friends I can rely on, and who can rely on me._

\--  


As Yugi blinked awake, his cheek scratched against the pavement. It was wet, slick from early morning dew. Instinctively, a hand flew to brush the dirt away, and he frowned in confusion. 

“Wha-?” he mumbled, still straining to become fully conscious. 

His vision swam, and he shook his head. Details sharpened into focus, like a camera lens. Domino High School’s entrance loomed overhead, its clock tower stark in the moonlight. Wind howled past, shaking the schoolyard trees and scattering the fallen autumn leaves across the grass. Winter hadn’t quite arrived yet, but everything -- the air, the puddles, the wind -- felt like ice.

Yugi longed for his warm bed at home. 

_Home._

Why _wasn’t_ he home?

He rolled his wrist, illuminating his watch. Four in the morning. It took a beat to register what he read. He had never been out this late, and certainly wouldn’t be caught dead creeping around school in the wee hours. But --

His thoughts were cut off abruptly, as he clocked another shadow in the schoolyard. It was large, rocking back and forth against one of the trees, as it tossed leaves up into the air with a manic giggle. The moonlight caught the man’s face as he restlessly shifted in the foliage.

 _Ushio._

But he looked wrong. His expression was contorted, his eyes manic. Drool seeped from the corners of his lips, dripping down onto the crumbled leaves. He held fistfulls of dirt up to his face, admiring it as a jeweler would a diamond. There was a lost look in his eyes, a vacancy that was haunting. 

“Hey, Ushio?” Yugi called out, slowly crawling closer. The sharp, metallic edge of the Millenium Puzzle cut into his gut, and he winced. “Are you ok?”

A loud, crazed giggle burst forth from Ushio, as he hugged an armful of dead leaves to his chest. Yugi froze, the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge. And when Ushio finally turned his gaze on him, Yugi could only barely make out the outline of his pupil. White eyes stared back, as a creepy grin spread slowly across Ushio’s face. 

“It’s all mine,” he whispered, his voice shaky with a mixture of happiness and possessiveness. The leaves crackled as his arms crushed tighter around his chest. “You can’t have it.”

Rising slowly, Ushio stumbled towards Yugi like a zombie. His steps were wobbly, and he raised his arms as if to grab the poor boy in front of him. 

So Yugi turned on his heel and ran. Sprinted full tilt through the dark, as fast as his short legs could carry him. He didn’t dare look back until he collided with the game shop’s rough, stucco wall. Drawing in ragged, painful breaths, his purple eyes darted behind him. Confirmed he was alone. And he allowed himself to collapse, shaking with disbelief and shock as he tried to make sense of the night…

And that had just been the first blackout. One of many. 

The sound of rushing water paused as Yugi twisted the sink’s knob. He held it for a moment, staring down into the vibrant red pool as it spun and twisted down the drain. 

His eyes wandered slightly further, to the golden puzzle that hung around his neck. It gleamed with a cold twinkle, flashing white as it reflected moonlight. It looked innocuous enough at first glance, but…

_The one who solves me shall inherit my dark knowledge and power._

The warning on the puzzle’s box seemed all the more real now. He hadn’t taken it seriously at first, thinking it mere superstition. An occultist joke to help foster the intrigue and mystery around the item. But what if it _was_ evil? What if some dark power had taken over him, controlled him and stolen his memories?

Yugi grasped the cord, intending to remove the puzzle. He didn’t want to wear it anymore, especially if it was cursed. It would be the only way to know for sure. 

But his arms locked, frozen in place. He struggled to lift the cord, to slip it over his neck, to no avail. It was as if someone or something was exerting an equal, opposite force right back down on his limbs. 

“What-?!” Yugi cried, his muscles straining against the pressure. “Let go of me!”

He continued to fight as he glanced up to look in the mirror. His eyes widen in terror as he clocked a black mist hovering around him, holding his arms in place. It hisses a death rattle, ghosting down to be level with his face. 

And Yugi could only watch as his own mouth stretches into a wicked smile, the bright purple eyes flushing dark red. The same color as blood. The Millenium Puzzle pulses, beating like a heart against his stomach. 

_Help me_ , he whispers to no one.


	2. Going Into Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jonouchi and Honda get their first glimpse that something is wrong with Yugi, and the ghost threatens to make an appearance at school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Chapter 2! The ball is officially rolling. 
> 
> Thank you to those who gave feedback on the first chapter, including PhoebeDelos. I'm glad this fic has gotten off to a good start. 
> 
> As a note, I always liked the idea that Yugi was diabetic. It's only referenced in one panel of the English manga, but it made so much sense as a "rational" way to explain away the moments when Yugi struggled to hold back Atem. 
> 
> One of my dearest friends is Type 1 and on a CGM, and when we first met, he walked me through how to remove his sensor, how his monitor worked, and what to do if he ever went into shock. Thankfully it only happened once, in the three plus years I've known him, but it was a scary moment. I know Yugi's friends would care for him like I did for my friend. 
> 
> Listened to "Night Flight 2" from **Mary & The Witch's Flower** for tone and inspiration.

“Hey, Yuge,” Jonouchi nudged, waving his hands in front of Yugi’s listless face. “Earth to Yugi. You in there?”

The younger boy blinked, shaking his head to clear his daze. He clenched his hands, digging his nails into his palms in order to keep them from shaking. 

He wasn’t afraid of Jonouchi. In fact, over the past few weeks they’d become close friends. The ordeal with Ushio had been a silver lining after all, he’d once thought. And while Ushio’s absence didn’t solve all of the boy’s school troubles, he was all too glad to see him removed from the picture. One less worry. No one quite knew what had happened to him -- not even Yugi. But he and his classmates had all watched as doctors pried him away from that tree, and into the back of an ambulance.

“You alright, pal?” Jonouchi asked, leaning down to Yugi’s eye level. His brown eyes shone with concern, and it felt like they pierced straight into Yugi’s soul. “You look pale. Er, paler than usual.”

Yugi plastered a smile onto his face, and chuckled quietly. “I’m fine, Jou. Just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Again?” Jonouchi cocked his eyebrow. His loose, blonde bangs shifted so they fell over his eyes, shading them from view. 

“Yeah,” Yugi sighed, running his hands through his spiky hair. He stole a sidelong glance down at the puzzle, his mouth flinching ever so slightly. “But I’m sure it’s just restlessness. Eager for summer to start, you know?”

“Got any big plans?” Honda jumped in, grinning widely. “Me, I’m going to ask Izumi out. Maybe hit up the beach or some museums. The world’s our oyster.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Jonouchi teased, “She has to say yes to your ugly mug first.” He playfully patted Honda’s cheek in mock pity, before reaching up to tousle his perfectly coiffed bouffant. 

“Don’t you dare!” Honda yelped, twisting away from Jonouchi’s grasp. “You know how long I spend on my hair every morning.”

A small, genuine smile twitched across Yugi’s lips as he watched his friends bicker. He rested his cheek against his hand as he admired their goofiness. 

“You should ask Anzu out,” Honda smiled, turning the attention onto Yugi. “It’s certainly been long enough.”

Yugi’s cheeks burned, no doubt flushed a vivid red, as her face popped into his mind. Porcelain skin, feathery brown hair, and the brightest, sky-blue eyes he’d ever seen. His heartbeat quickened and a lump formed in his throat as he stole a glance her way.

She stood near the front of the class, surrounded by other female classmates. Sweeping loose strands behind her ear, she was effortlessly social with everyone. Like the sun, she radiated warmth, positivity and enthusiasm, immediately putting those around her at ease. She had an attraction, like a magnet, that drew people to her. 

Yugi had been charmed by that allure, even when they were children. Always the shy outcast, he stood apart from everyone, while Anzu collected acquaintances. And although he was shy, Yugi was no exception. She had stomped up to him in elementary school, dressed in her little blue romper, and demanded he play games with her. With no choice but to oblige, Yugi shared a game with her, watching with careful interest as she struggled with it. 

In the end, she broke it -- her determination and strong grip splintering one of the wooden pieces. If it had been anyone else, he might have been upset about it. But instead he just laughed, and brought her a new game the next day. He admired her energy and perseverance, and fell a little more in love with her with every day they spent together. 

Now that they were in high school, the torch he held for her had grown into a bonfire. Sparks and embers flew between them as he silently pined for her, grimacing from the shadows as more handsome and athletic boys made advances. And while they maintained a close, special friendship, Yugi knew he had little hope of ever getting his chance with her. 

“You know that’s never going to happen,” Yugi mumbled, tracing the grains of his desk with his index finger.

“Why not? You think she’s too good for you?” Honda pressed, breaking free from Jonouchi’s chokehold. The two boys pulled chairs from the other desks, whipping them around to face Yugi’s. 

“Honestly man, you have a chance,” Jonouchi nodded, stroking his chin. “I mean, yeah, she’s hot...but you have the home field advantage. You’ve known her since you were kids.” 

The blush grew hotter, creeping up Yugi’s neck and warming his ears. Even when his friends tried to be encouraging, it felt like everything they said was piteous. 

“It’s not that…” Yugi whispered, staring down at his hands. Although his skin had been scalded and scrubbed clean, he still could see the blood clotted around the lines on his palm. Could feel it there, his forgotten sins clinging to him like static. 

His watery violet eyes slid back up towards his friends. He wanted so desperately to tell them. To let them know about the nights he’d blacked out. About the shadow that followed him. But part of him worried that they’d think he was crazy. 

No, maybe more than a part. Until recently, Yugi himself would have laughed the story off. Ghosts, demons, the supernatural...they weren’t real. Sure, he scared easily...but when things went bump in the night, he knew they had a logical source. As moonlight filtered through the trees outside his window, they cast eerie dark shapes on his walls. Whenever loud noises jolted him from sleep, it was because the wind blew over the trash cans on the curb. 

No matter how much he’d wanted life to be more extraordinary, it just _wasn’t_. 

And now that it was...he began to regret his wish. 

“I-” he started to say, but found his voice caught in his throat. His throat, his tongue stopped moving, as if paralyzed. Though his breathing didn’t arrest, something kept his diaphragm from allowing the quick, hyperventilating gasps he wanted to take. 

His flushed cheeks and rapid heartbeat were a siren’s call. Every time he felt any strong emotions -- mostly fear or rage -- the puzzle around his neck activated. Physiological response seemed to be the tripwire, from the little he could surmise from his fragmented memories. 

A shiver rattled up his spine, as if a pail of freezing cold water had been dumped over him. A withered moan echoed through his ears -- a dying man’s last breath. Yugi’s eyes widened as he felt the sensation of bony, rotting fingers crawling over his shoulder. Every hair stood on end, as if touched by a live wire, and he could feel the blood draining from his face.

“Hey man, are you ok?” Jonouchi asked, but Yugi could barely hear him. A pounding pulse beat out his friend’s voice, muffling it. His vision began to dim, swimming and rolling like ocean waves. 

Yugi struggled to fight through the fog. Something inside him threatened to bubble to the surface, like vomit rising up his esophagus. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling -- one that ached with an overwhelming sense of sadness and anger. Strange, powerful, raw emotions that felt like they could tear him inside out. Although these feelings weren’t tangible, Yugi tried to grab hold of them, to force them back down. 

He had to try. Who knew what would happen if he blacked out here, at school, with his friends to bear witness. Or be the victims. 

Yugi’s hand crawled forward across the wood grains of his desk, until his fingers hooked around the edge. He gripped it with all his might, watching as his knuckles turned white. The sharp corner cut painfully into his skin, but it kept him on the edge of lucidity. 

“Jo...nou...chi,” Yugi managed, barely choking out the syllables of his friend’s name. Although his jaw was frozen, he still maintained a small level of control over his tongue and lips. 

_The puzzle didn’t like that_.

A numbness flooded through his oral nerves, flushing through his teeth and cheeks until it felt like his mouth was full of cotton. 

Honda grew more and more anxious, as he watched Yugi’s face. “Jou, I think he’s going into shock. He’s diabetic, isn’t he?”

Realization dawned across Jonouchi’s face, as he rushed to kneel by Yugi’s side. Brushing aside his uniform jacket, he pulled Yugi’s shirt up to reveal his glucose sensor. 

Jonouchi flinched as he registered the purple and yellow bruises that peppered Yugi’s back. Some were dangerously close to the sensor, and a stronger red color...no doubt places where the sensor had been when he was punched. 

A thin, plastic tube ran from the small electrode on his lower back to the electronic monitor in Yugi’s front pocket. Jonouchi carefully fished it out, trying not to disconnect it as he brought it closer to his face. He didn’t have much experience in the diabetes department, and the readout only confused him further. 

“Dude, I don’t know what any of this means,” Jonouchi frowned, passing it to Honda. 

“Ok, then go find something with sugar. Candy, mints, anything…I’ll take care of this.”

As Honda started plugging away at the monitor, Jonouchi jumped over to the ladies huddle in the front of the class.

“Any of you girls happen to have some chocolate or somethin’?” Jonouchi pleaded, “We think Yugi’s got low blood sugar.”

Anzu’s eyes widened, blinking into comprehension. Wordlessly departing from her group, she shrugged her backpack off and approached Yugi’s desk. 

Jonouchi chased after her, “Uh, Anzu…He--”

But she ignored him. Placing a hand to Yugi’s forehead, she swept his dampened bangs aside. His whole body shook beneath her touch, and her eyebrows knit together in concern. 

Fishing fruit gummies out of the front pocket of her backpack, she offered them to Yugi in the palm of her hand. His dulled, pained eyes shifted to look down at her palm, but he dared not let go of the edge of the desk. Noises escaped his mouth, but none were coherent. 

“Open,” she commanded, pushing one of the gummies to Yugi’s lips. He struggled to oblige, and she pushed it through the small crack between his teeth. “Chew.”

Some of the numbness subsided, and he woodenly bit down on the fruit snack. As his mouth flooded with sweet, cherry flavor, he could feel the pressure of the ghost’s grip loosen. He could still sense it behind him, hovering just out of view. But he fixated on Anzu’s sparkling, brilliant blue eyes, allowing his body to relax as he got lost in them. 

\-- 

As the sun set behind Domino High School’s clock tower, it chimed a cheery tune to signal the end of the day. Orange permeated the darkening blue sky, staining the clouds that streaked the horizon. 

Yugi watched it all from the rooftop -- the private hideaway he shared with his friends. Leaning against the chain link fencing that encircled the space, he drank in the heavens with a big sigh. 

He heard a heavy metal door open, the one that connected the roof to the stairwell. Light footsteps approached, and he shut his eyes, trying to muster some control.

“How are you feeling?” Anzu asked, taking a seat beside him. “You really scared everyone this morning.”

Yugi drew his knees to his chest, hugging them anxiously. “I’m doing better.” It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. He buried half of his face behind his knees, hiding the grimace that twitched across his lips.

“Something’s bothering you.” She shifted so she could look him dead-on, her gaze intense. “I can always tell, Yugi.”

He shrugged, drawing further into himself. It was a familiar pattern, curling around his true feelings and hiding them from the world. It felt safer if no one knew what was really going on inside his head. 

“If it’s Jonouchi or Honda…” she started, slowly proceeding. But Yugi was quick -- perhaps too quick -- to cut her off.

“No, it’s not them,” he interjected. It was an uncharacteristically loud outburst. But he followed up with a quieter, “They’re fine.”

“Then what it is? I want to help.”

When Yugi met her eyes, he saw steely determination. It was the look that she got in her eyes when she wanted to prove herself. To prove she was a good friend. 

But then he remembered the face in the mirror last night, his own eyes full of fire and rage and blood. Like a storm in the heart of a sun. He remembered blood mixing with water in his bathroom sink, and the dark shadow that haunted his dreams. The cursed puzzle was a force to be reckoned with, and he didn’t want her anywhere near it.

“Believe me. There’s nothing you can do.”

Hurt flashed across her face, if only for a second. “You won’t even let me try?”

“Anzu…” he sighed with a hint of exasperation. Keeping an even keel was proving to be difficult.

“I feel like I don’t know what’s going on with you anymore. We haven’t talked in weeks.” As she spoke, her voice trembled. “Ever since you solved that puzzle, and Jou and Honda started hanging around...it’s like you’re a different person.”

Yugi’s heartbeat picked up pace, thumping irregularly. His breaths became more shallow, as he tried to will it to slow down. But that familiar, bubbling sensation came over his whole body, drowning him in a stranger’s rage and despair. 

_No, not here. Not in front of her_.

He clutched his arms as he scooted away from her, trying to put as much distance between them. The Millenium Puzzle activated, glowing brightly against his stomach as he scrambled to get to his feet. A high-pitched, keening white noise filled the air, and he stumbled, falling to his knees.

“Yugi, what--” Anzu called, moving towards him. But he held out one of his hands in a staying motion. 

As he moved his hand, he saw Anzu fly backwards towards the stairwell exit, as if pushed by an unseen force. Her feet left the ground as something invisible carried her, putting more distance between them, and she slammed against the metal door. 

His heart skipped a beat when he heard her cry out in pain.

“Get out of here!” he shouted, gripping his head with his free hand. His shadow stretched, expanding beneath him and creeping up the adjacent building wall. It peeled away from the stone with ease, drifting towards him in snaking, black tendrils. 

Anzu felt the back of her head, staring at her shaking fingers in horror when they came back bloodied. She stood frozen, her mouth falling open in fear and disbelief, before glancing back up at Yugi.

**“RUN!”**


	3. Darkness Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last thing Yugi saw was Anzu's face. And then he was pulled into the darkness. What secrets hide in the depths of the puzzle? Can he make any sense of the ghost that's plaguing his every waking hour?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just realized how long it's been since I updated Japanese Jekyll. Been stuck on this chapter for weeks, trying to nail down how close I wanted to stay to canon. 
> 
> We're building to a big divergence (SPOILERS), and the scene that I built this whole fic around. So hang in there!
> 
> Music:  
> Ori, Lost In The Storm - Ori & The Blind Forest  
> Inspiriting - Ori & The Blind Forest

“RUN!” Yugi yelled, consumed with fear. His hand was outstretched, reaching towards Anzu as the darkness swirled around the edges of his periphery. He watched the blackness close around his fingers, obscuring Anzu’s face. Those terrified blue eyes and her blood seared into his brain. 

He feels his face go too, like sinking beneath the surface of the ocean. No longer aware of any floor or walls, he allows himself to float. His “body” drifts backwards, reclining while his hands bobb at his sides. A pulse rocks him every so often, and his hair moves and spreads, flowing free as if in zero gravity. 

Eyelids shuttering, he fights the strong, sudden urge to sleep. 

_No,_ he thinks. _I cannot sleep. Not this time. Anzu needs me._

He jerks back upright, but seems to remain in a seated position. His legs curl underneath him as he attempts to maintain his balance, bobbing along in an invisible current. It carries him deeper and deeper into the darkness, into a lightless void. 

After drifting downwards for what seems like an eternity, Yugi’s shoes hit resistance. He glances down, tracing the faint outline of stonework with his deep purple irises. Crouching, he sweeps a hand across the surface, recoiling as a freezing cold shock courses through him.

With trembling fingers, he holds his hand up to his face, twisting it this way and that as he attempts to catch some dim light. The place where his hand had made contact with the floor had browned, peeling and shrinking like a mummy’s dehydrated, dead skin. His joints and bones were clearly visible, twig-like and brittle. 

A terrified yelp catches in his throat, and he backs away in shock. Not looking where he's going, Yugi is surprised when his heel catches against a raised limestone step. He falls backward, away from the darkness and into a brightly lit, underground room. Landing on his lower back and rear, he winces from the pain as his body makes contact with the unforgiving floor. 

Torches crackle all around him, bathing the room in a warm orange glow. The light flickers and dances across the stones, as shadows move in rhythm. A pervasive sense of bygone eras permeate the space, as the room’s construction seems ancient and timeworn. 

As Yugi picks himself up, he notices a narrow passageway to the back-left. He approaches it with caution, glancing over his shoulder for an alternative escape. But it seems that the way back into the endless void has been sealed. The only way appears to be forward. 

His shoulders brush against the walls as he strides forward, his school jacket rubbing against the limestone. Dust and sand occasionally drift down in feathery spurts, falling between the cracks in the monument. Some of the grains catch in his hair, and as he brushes them from his tangled locks, he begins to realize that he’s in a tomb of some sort. Underground, like a catacomb. 

Up ahead, he hears the faint echo of voices. Yugi trains an ear forward, brow furrowing as he strains to make out the words. It sounds foreign, almost guttural, with complex noises. Arabic, maybe? Two voices appear lower than the third, male and authoritative. 

As he nears the end of the passageway, Yugi presses his back against one of the walls, only barely edging out around the corner. Stifling a gasp, he can’t quite believe the scene unfolding before him.

The room is cavernous, with high ceilings and surprising length. However, despite its off putting size, it’s very sparse. Hieroglyphs and Egyptian paintings adorn the walls, their color fresh and unmarred. A long, stone bridge connects two standing platforms, one on each end of the room. Beneath it, a seemingly endless drop into darkness. 

_That can’t be safe,_ Yugi thinks to himself, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

Dust, grains and reeds...the smell is pungent and noticeable. But a staleness also creeps in, hiding underneath the initial agricultural wave. There’s a must, the smell of dirt mixed with rainwater, that lingers after the fresh ingredients have died. 

Yugi is taken aback by how new everything seems. But there’s evidence of slapdash construction. Paint bleeds outside the lines in some of the portraits, and in others, the coat is still wet. In several places, a specific section of hieroglyphs have been buffed out, intentionally and haphazardly chipped away and defaced. Even the carvings chiseled into the ornate limestone bridge have an unfinished quality to them. 

_What is this place?_

As the initial awe and wonderment fades, Yugi’s eyes land on a body. Broken and bloodied, it lies limp on a small altar nearby. It’s a young man, barely into his early twenties. His features bear an eerie resemblance to Yugi’s own, although his eyes seem sharper, his brow more tense. This stranger even has similar, wild hair, streaked with black, blonde and red. 

Blood stains the corner of the young man’s mouth. It’s dried some, but it seems relatively fresh. Open wounds and scratches pepper across his arms and legs, mingling with the layer of dirt that seems to cover every inch of him. More blood pools at the side of the altar, collecting as drops fall from the young man’s limp fingers. 

Yugi feels inexplicably drawn to him, and he sidles closer. He approaches the altar, his face dropping closer as he inspects the body further.

There’s something regal about the young man’s garb. His tunic is plain, cream-colored beneath the brown sheen of sand. Gold bands encircle his waist, arms, and neck, glinting deep yellow in the torches’ firelight. Various rings populate his slender fingers, and opulent earrings dangle from his ears. A faint red mark on the man’s forehead indicates the former presence of a diadem.

Someone softly sobs nearby, a mournful cry that break’s Yugi’s focus. He drifts to the side of the altar, and sees a young woman, kneeling at the man’s side with her head bowed reverently. Chestnut brown hair spills over her shoulders with each heart-wrenching shake, as tears smudge the kohl under her muddy eyes. 

She reaches up, raising her hand to the young man’s body, as if to hold his hand. But another man steps up behind her and slaps it away.

“Mana, show respect. You dare not raise your hand to the king,” he spits, his narrow blue eyes cold and focused. 

“I...I’m sorry, Set. My lord. I just…” Mana’s voice hitches, and her watery hazel eyes shift up towards his, “One last time…”

Set softens ever so slightly, his lip twitching. “Hmph,” he snorts, crossing his arms. It’s not an answer, but Mana runs with it.

She grabs the king’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m so sorry…” she whispers to him. 

Another man, an older priest, is seated on the floor some feet away. A thin linen cloth is draped across his crossed legs, weighed down by dozens of small gold pieces. It looks almost like a puzzle, since each shape is unique and grooved. He pours water from a jug, splashing it across the pile, and sets to work polishing the blood from each piece. The clean pieces are set aside in a neat row on the stones, allowed to air dry before returning to their home in an ornate, decorative box. 

Yugi’s eyes pinch shut, and he shakes his head. Confusion sweeps across his face. He can’t understand those voices -- he doesn’t recognize the language -- but somehow, he’s able to process what they’re saying. And it’s all so...cryptic. Eerie. And why don’t they seem to see him? 

_Is this a memory?_

A shadow sweeps across the room, causing the torches to flicker. As the light sputters, there’s a low, wispy sound, like a long exhale.

“This place is cursed,” Set growls, tappings his fingers against his crossed arm. His long white cape billows as the shadow passes by him, but he seems unconcerned about the entity encircling them. 

“It’s the puzzle,” the older priest murmurs, sweeping a finger across the ominous Wadjet eye that adorns the biggest puzzle piece. It flashes with sinister energy. “Now that the darkness is trapped inside, we should let it become lost to the shadows.”

Mana flinches, her eyes meeting the priest’s. “Shimon...” she begins to protest. 

“It was his duty, Mana.” Shimon meets her despair with steely resolve. “He knew what this sacrifice meant. And he saved us all.”

He dumped the remaining gold pieces into the box, sealing the lid as he rises to stand.

“We can’t do anything for him now. Release him,” he continues, patting her shoulder as he places the box on the young man’s body. Shimon carefully position’s the king’s arms, and drapes them across his chest, in the Egyptian burial symbol.

“I still think we should give him a proper burial,” Set interjects. “Burying a king in an unmarked grave, without a sarcophagus or an embalming? You treat him as you would a peasant. His name will die, but his body should live on with the regals. We owe him that much.”

Shimon shakes his head. “I understand your pain, Set. I do. He was like a son to me, and a great leader. But we have to forget.” He gestures to the world outside the tomb. “ _They_ have to forget. So his death isn’t meaningless.”

Another chill passes through the room, breezing right through Yugi as it swishes around the room. The torch lights go out, plunging the room into pure darkness. As the light vanishes, so does Mana, Shimon and Set. 

Yugi watches the puzzle box glow with bright yellow light, pulsing like a heartbeat. With each throb, the room seems to age and deteriorate. The warmth turns to a cold, gray-blue palette. Cobwebs populate the corners, and a thick sheen of dust coats every surface. 

And then, a small white orb ghosts out of the puzzle box. It seems shy, tentative at first, like a firefly in April. But slowly the light builds, transforming into the likeness of the young man. It’s clear he’s nothing but an echo, but his presence is surprising all the same. 

He opens his eyes, and Yugi starts at their unusual color. Deep red, like a Nile lotus. There’s a lost look to the young man’s expression, an unfathomable melancholy. Like someone who’s missing a piece of themself. The darkness in the room seems to collect beneath him, a living shadow that clings to him and steals his life.

Little by little, he begins to disappear. Waist deep in blackness, the ghost’s gaze shifts to Yugi. A shiver runs up Yugi’s spine as their eyes lock, and he finds himself rooted. Fear paralyzes him, keeping him from running away. 

A sadness overcomes him, growing within his chest like ice shards. His heart begins to hurt, as if squeezed by someone from the inside. Each beat tears through his body, white-hot. He wants to scream, to turn away. He wants it to stop. 

_Wake up!_ He yells, trying to will himself back into his body. _Please!_

Blood, red and vibrant, drips from the ghost’s mouth. His bodily wounds slash across his ethereal form, before all color fades from his form entirely. 

With pale skin and faded hair, the ghost almost looks like a mirror image. 

He stalks towards Yugi, his expression growing darker. The shadows swarm around his body, hissing. The red in the ghost’s eyes burns brighter than ever.

He takes Yugi by the neck, crushing his windpipe with one hand. He lifts Yugi off the ground effortlessly, smirking as Yugi’s feet flail uselessly, trying to find purchase. 

_Don’t get in my way_ , the ghost’s deep voice fills Yugi’s head, loud and threatening. 

Gasping, Yugi struggles to breathe. Air can’t make it into his lungs, stopping at the ghost’s choke point. The room begins to grow hazy, until…

\--

Like a drowning victim seconds from death, Yugi bolts upright in bed, fighting for breath. Panting ragged, deep gulps of air, he tries to steady his racing heart. Sweat dapples his flushed skin, slicking his hair to his face and neck. Nausea rips through his abdomen, along with the hollow feeling of hunger.

Blinking, he struggles to ward off disorientation as he tries to make sense of his surroundings. The darkened corners of his room swim into focus, streaked with the blue light of a half moon. A tangled mess of blankets cover his still-clothed body. 

_Night?_

He shakes his wrist, checking his watch. **11:28 PM.** He does a double take. 

8 hours. It’s the longest stretch of time he’s ever missed. 

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stands up so he can pull his glucose monitor out of his rear pocket. With how terrible he’s feeling, the blood sugar levels must be off the chart. 

As he tugged his monitor loose, another device fell out of his pocket. It clattered to the floor with a loud, heavy sound, drawing Yugi’s focus. His phone, a thick, black iPhone 5, lay face-down on the hardwood.

Stooping to pick it up, Yugi’s fingers shake as he turns the device over in his palm. The screen flickers to life, illuminating his wallpaper -- a selfie with Jonouchi, Honda, Anzu and Ryou. A large crack runs across the picture, splintering the image in several places. The most damaged of the rifts cuts across Anzu’s face, breaking her carefree smile. 

Yugi rubs his thumb across her face, almost as if trying to wipe the crack away. To undo the damage. 

And then it clicks. “Anzu!” Yugi exclaims out loud, almost too loudly. 

Swiftly unlocking the phone, he clicks her name and presses the phone to his ear. Closing his eyes, he silently mouths a prayer, a wish. _Please let her be ok._

“The subscriber you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try your call again later.”

The busy dial-tone rhythmically bleats in his ear, even after he lowers the phone. 

He tries her number again. Straight to the message. It isn’t even her normal, cheery voicemail. 

_What did he do to her?_

Grabbing his keys, he heads for the door. Heads for her home, even though it’s the middle of the night and she lives a good twenty minutes walk away.

He doesn’t see what’s hidden beneath his bed. He doesn’t see the bloody pink school jacket, balled haphazardly next to his childhood games and dust bunnies.


	4. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been 4 days and Anzu Mazaki is missing. Her disappearance puts a strain on the Muto household, but it's nothing compared to the horrific discovery waiting for the police at the docks.

Bleary, white light streams through the kitchen window, overcast and tinged with gray. Outside, rainwater drips rhythmically from the eves, condensed droplets of the mist that continues to swirl overhead. The clouds rumble, forewarning a bigger storm. 

A small, counter-top television is propped neatly in the corner, a round-edged relic from the late 90s. Two rabbit-ear antenna stretch upwards in a 90-degree angle, brushing against the ceiling and wall as it gropes for signal. 

Yugi’s mother is at the sink, rinsing a brick of tofu. She occasionally turns to glance at the news broadcast onscreen, a concerned expression knitting her brows. As she takes the bean curd to the cutting board, she pauses, as if to say something, but the words catch in her throat. 

“Authorities are requesting any information or tips to help in the search for sixteen-year-old Mazaki Anzu, a third-year at Domino High School. She was last seen at school on Tuesday, according to her classmates. Nearly four days ago. Police are exhausting every possible lead as they continue their investigation.”

Yugi’s mom holds onto an onion, slicing each end off with a sharpened knife. She halves the vegetable, before starting to chop it into finer pieces. Tears fill her eyes, although it’s not from the onion’s pungent sting. 

Anzu’s yearbook photo fills the television screen as the newscaster narrates, before cutting to smiling photos from her Facebook page. 

The knife slows, and then stops, clattering to the side as Yugi’s mother clenches her fists. She presses her palms to her eyes as she sobs, hastily rubbing away tears. 

Yugi looks up from the kitchen table, where he’s been working on homework. Several workbooks lie open in front of him, but little progress has been made. The scene has been made to look busy, but it only seems to highlight his vacant, listless stare. 

“Mom…” he starts, pushing the table as he rises to stand. He’s not sure what he should do... _if he should do_ …anything. 

“It’s okay,” she chokes, sniffing as she tries to bury her emotions. “It’s okay.”

“Are you…?” He wasn’t sure what he was going to ask. Maybe “are you alright”?

“I’m sorry,” she huffs, wiping her hands on her apron. Red, swollen patches dot around her dark eyes. “It’s just...terrible is all.”

Yugi’s eyes shift to the television, to the footage of police cars and flashing sirens outside of Anzu’s house. He sets his lips, chewing the inside of his cheek as dark thoughts fill his mind. 

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Yugi’s mom assures, a forced optimism lacking any weight. “They’ll find her.”

 _No, they won’t,_ answered a thought in Yugi’s head. The voice was deep, so confident and smug. 

The hairs on the back of Yugi’s neck bristle, standing on end. He freezes mid-action, waiting for another sign, another tell. Because that thought...it hadn’t been his. It couldn’t have been. He would _never…._

But there was only silence, an empty space where his thoughts should be. Maybe it was the grief, the worry and anxiety eating away at his insides while they waited for answers…

How could he tell his mother that he’d been the last person to see her alive?

The memory of her terrified, blue eyes was seared into his brain. He studied every inch of that last picture, going over it again and again in his mind as he tries to fight through the fog that follows that moment. _Something_ has to be there. A clue? Anything? 

“You're sure she didn't say anything to you?” Yugi’s mother presses, as she scrapes the diced onions into a frying pan. She douses them with oil, adjusting the heat before she lets them simmer. “She hasn't mentioned any problems at home? I know you two are close…”

“No, mom,” he sighs, running his hands through his messy spikes. 

And that's where the conversation dies, lying like roadkill between them on the kitchen floor. A subject that now fills their every action and waking thought, but is too raw and fresh to touch again. 

Wordlessly, Yugi gathers his homework, shoving it haphazardly into his school bag. He doesn't care if it's a mess, or if any of the papers are missing. All he wants is to escape, to get as far away from his mother as possible. 

_I don't want her in danger,_ he thinks to himself, eyeing her from the dining table. _I can’t let her become another Anzu._

For once, he is relieved to be stuck at school for a whole day. Maybe the ghost, the _thing_ haunting him, would stay quiet if other people were around. He couldn’t trust it, couldn’t be sure it would work, but if something were to happen then it would be better if it was there. Maybe then, Jonouchi and Honda could help…

Shaking his head, he switches into his outdoor shoes. All of this was so impossible, and how could he drag his friends into something like this? Something so dark, so sinister. Something he himself didn’t understand.

“Ittekimasu,” Yugi calls from the door, his voice lackluster and emotionless.

The door swings shut behind him, cutting him off from his mother. He didn’t listen for her usual response, instead retreating into his own head as he begins his walk to school. Anxiety drowns out nearly every other thought and emotion in his brain, as it pokes and prods his fears and insecurities. 

Sirens blare in the distance, roaring by Yugi’s head as they speed down the street. The noise seems so far away, even though the police cars pass right by him. The world seems to slow, the pulsing red and blue lights crawling as the cars sweep by him. He catches sight of his face in the tinted black windows, and almost doesn’t recognize the pale, gaunt features that look back at him. 

_I should be in there,_ he thinks, dejection and melancholy seeping through him. _After all this, I belong in the back of a squad car._

He couldn’t really even be sure _what_ he’d done. But a dark, heavy feeling twists his gut and forms a lump in his throat. An instinctual, physical reaction that told him that -- _whatever_ it was -- it was bad. 

Up ahead, the police cars turn the corner, tires skidding on pavement as they drift at high speeds. A fire truck follows shortly after, blaring its horn loudly. 

\--

At the docks, the lazy, rainy drizzle thickens into a mist as a lone police car makes its way to a crime scene. Nearly everything is obscured in white fog, eerily reminiscent of Silent Hill. Shipping containers peek out of the haze, sharp corners and dark colors swirl in and out of sight. The windshield wipers work overtime, rushing to wick away drizzle. But no matter how fast they slide across the glass, a smattering of dewdrops instantly reappear. 

Gravel crunches as the cruiser brakes, slowing to a dead stop near the edge of the docks. The yellow-white light of the headlights are cut off as the engine shuts down. As the passenger door opens, a large black umbrella is shoved through the narrow opening. It unfolds with a _fwump_ sound, holding perfect shape as it shields an older man from the wet Saturday morning. 

Flashing blue and red lights highlight opposite sides of his age-worn face as he stalks towards the water. Deep wrinkles crease the corners of his squinted eyes and the edges of his thin, pinched lips, and streaks of gray hair frost the sides of his head just above the ears. A thick, caterpillar moustache sits just below his sharp, angular nose. It tickles the cigarette he chomps at the corner of his mouth. 

A section of the docks has been cordoned off with white and blue tape, which flutters and rolls in the seaside breeze. “Caution: Police Line, Do Not Cross” is emblazoned in stark dark blue Kanji. An empty black body bag sits on the concrete, open and ready to receive the victim.

“Ah, Chief Inspector Tomori!” calls a young man in a dark blue windbreaker. He jogs up to the older man, holding the brim of his baseball hat as he keeps his face downward and away from the misting drizzle. The back of his jacket reads “POLICE”. 

“Takahiro-san,” Tomori grunts, keeping his eyes focused on the water’s edge. On the fluttering police tape and the churning, dark gray ocean. 

“Thank you for coming out on such notice,” Takahiro apologizes, bowing quickly as he trots alongside Tomori. “No one has disturbed her since Harbor Patrol called it in.”

Tomori nods sullenly. Both men cross the police line, approaching the edge of the concrete dock. 

As he leans out over the lip, he immediately catches sight of the body. Stark, lilly white, against the deep gray waters, almost ghost-like in appearance. Her short chestnut hair floats freely around her head, bobbing and swirling with each wave. Open, empty blue eyes gaze up at the heavens, unseeing.

She’s missing her school jacket, and the white blouse underneath has been torn open near the chest, exposing her lace bra. Some small tears cut her pleated blue skirt and black, knee-high socks. Her shoes must have sunk or drifted off. 

A camera shutter clicks rapidly, like an insect’s mandibles. Tomori waits in uncomfortable silence as the forensic photographer grabs photographs, wishing he could kneel and close the young woman’s blouse. He thinks of his six-year-old daughter back home. 

“Pull her out,” he instructs, turning his back on the rough ocean. 

Several divers leap into the icy waters, shouting instructions to a crane operator on the docks. A hard, flat gurney is lowered slowly into the shallows, and the drivers carefully guide the young woman’s body onto it. After strapping her in place, the crane then lifts her out, depositing the gurney onto the docks. 

In the water, this young woman almost looked ethereal. But up close? Garish. Water bloat has added a swollen, puffiness to her features. Veins had risen up near the top of her skin, creating a slightly opaque, purple and blue criss-cross pattern on her arms and legs. Her full lips were a similar purple-blue color, almost like a bad shade of makeup. 

Tugging on latex gloves, Tomori steps over to the body. He squats down, eyeing her up and down. Looking for any signs of trauma, of a struggle. At first glance, nothing seems unusual. Her skin is relatively clean, and there are no obvious bruises or cuts at the surface level. Lifting her hand, he checks her fingernails. Some dirt is trapped beneath the nail, but he takes a scraping of it just to be sure. 

A small trail of blood seeps out from behind her head, diluting and intermingling with the rain and ocean water. He gently raises her head, turning her neck and sweeping her hair aside as he searches for an injury. He finds a deep cut near the base of her skull, surrounded by bruised tissue. 

“Blunt force?” Takahiro asks, shrugging his umbrella as he pulls a notepad and pen from his pocket. It’s a bit waterlogged, but it will do. 

“Looks to be so,” Tomori grimaces, waving the photographer over. After a couple of snapshots, he rests her head back against the ground. “But let’s not jump to any conclusions yet. I want a full tox panel run.” 

The young woman’s hair shifts as her head comes in contact with the concrete, her wet bangs falling to one side. A bright, angry red mark peeks through the darkened strands, stark against her pale skin.

“What’s that?” Takahiro leans in, pushing more of her hair aside with the end of his pen. Tomori sweeps a gloved hand over her forehead, pulling all of her bangs away from her face. 

It’s a burn mark. One of the worst Tomori has ever seen, definitely 3rd degree. The flesh appears to have been sizzled away, as if branded with a white hot poker. Raw, subdermal layers are exposed to air, bloody and eviscerated. 

Yet, the shape was the most unsettling thing about the mark. It was in the shape of an eye. 

“Jesus,” Takahiro breathes, copying the symbol onto his waterlogged notepad. “A cult, you think?”

“A third eye,” Tomori agrees, his focus trained on the symbol. “The window into the soul.”

The photographer’s shutter clicks, zeroing in on the young girl’s forehead. Close up snaps of the burned tissue flick by on his digital screen as he reviews some of the shots. 

“We’ll need to get a positive I.D., but there’s a good chance this is the missing Mazaki girl. Looks enough like her photos,” Takahiro huffs, pocketing his pen and pad. He pulls a radio receiver from inside his jacket, and begins to murmur something into it. 

As if in a trance, Tomori reaches out a gloved hand to touch the symbol on her forehead. His fingers move straight towards the eye burned into the center, to the iris.

The minute his hands make contact, horrific images begin to scream through his mind. Images of impossibly bright red eyes, of gold light, of a school rooftop and of living darkness. A static hiss begins to buzz in his ears, growing louder and louder until it becomes nearly deafening. 

Chief Inspector Tomori drops to his knees, grasping the sides of his head in agony. Blood begins to trickle out of his ears, dripping into the pooled rainwater below him.


	5. Losing Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which students are questioned, Yugi loses control, and Chief Inspector Tomori is haunted by Anzu's ghost.

The gleaming, spotless halls of Domino High School are silent as a tomb. No noise escapes from the classrooms, not even whispers. Everything is a shade of gray, utterly colorless, which the overcast, rainy afternoon light only seems to emphasize. 

A pair of indoor shoes shuffle down the polished tile floors, sweeping towards Classroom 1-B. There’s a frenzied energy to them, aflush with panic, as a short, balding, middle-aged man approaches the sliding door. He pushes it open with a loud clatter.

“Excuse me, Miss Chono-Sensei,” he huffs, pausing to mop his brow. “I very am sorry to intrude on your lesson. But Principal Shoto would like to see some of your students in his office.”

The whiteboard marker stills, its red tip hovering mere inches from the surface. Miss Chono blinks, turning to stare at the intruder. Her thick, wavy red hair has been pulled back into a neat ponytail, but stray wisps hang near her ears. Bright red lipstick coats her pout, which twitches with annoyance at the disruption. 

“Ah, Mr. Kanemori,” she sighs, capping the pen and crossing her arms. “Yes, fine. Who did you need?”

Mr. Kanemori swallows, blush darkening his chubby cheeks. Everyone in the school thought very highly of Miss Chono -- her beauty and appeal had a reputation. 

“Oh, yes. Will Nosaka Miho, Honda Hiroto, Jonouchi Katsuya, Bakura Ryou, and Muto Yugi please come with me?”

Several heads pop up, periscoping around as all eyes fall onto the students in question. 

A young, mousey girl in the front row, with faded silvery hair and a yellow bow tying back her ponytail, stands at the attention. “Nosaka Miho, sir,” she introduces, bowing. “Should I gather my things, or leave them here?”

“You can leave your backpack here,” Mr. Kanemori nods, gesturing towards the door. She silently exits the classroom to stand in the hall, an uneasy look on her face.

The remaining four boys sit together towards the back-left of the room, in comfortable poses, expressing various levels of disengagement. Jonouchi picks at bandaids on his cheek. Honda reads a manga under the table. Ryou doodles in the margins of his notebook, and Yugi stares out the far window, a dreamy but anxious look on his face. 

None appear to have heard their names called.

Mr. Kanemori clears his throat loudly, directing attention back towards the front. The boys look up, dazed. “Muto, Honda, Jonouchi, Bakura. Please come to the front.”

“Ah!” the group shouts, all clambering to their feet. “Hai!” 

They bow apologetically, and run up to the front of the classroom. Mr. Kanemori directs them to the hallway, pointing a single finger at the door. The boys exit in a single file line, expressions dark. 

It’s not the first time they’ve gone to the Principal’s office this week. Wednesday had been rough, full of revolving police officers and endless interviews. Asking about Anzu’s movements through the day, about her usual routes home, and if they knew anything that could help them find her. It had been hard on all of them, especially Yugi, who floundered under the harsh spotlight. 

“Hey, Kanemori-Sensei,” Jonouchi called, scuffing his indoor shoes against the tile. “What is this all about?” His tone sounded suspicious, cynical. 

“There’s some officers here, and they asked for you five specifically. Maybe there’s an update about the case,” Mr. Kanemori sighs, blotting his forehead again. His skin is shiny from oil and sweat. Expression unsettled.

Yugi looks up, his deep amethyst irises dancing with concern. His brows knit together, and it becomes hard for him to swallow. 

Ryou reaches out and squeezes his shoulder comfortingly. His deep brown eyes shine with genuine comfort, and his mouth twitches with a reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay, Yugi,” he encourages the shorter boy.

Before long, they’re seated in hard plastic chairs outside the Principal’s office. Hands clasped, knees shaking with impatience, they uniformly stare at the vertical wood grains of the door’s planks. The pattern reminds Yugi of a planet, of the surface of Jupiter, right down to the large, circular marks and swirling lines. 

Honda cranes his neck, trying to peer over the frosted glass on the window. He can see two masculine outlines, standing behind Principal Shoto as they question Miho. They’re unflinching, stoic and authoritative. Almost as motionless as mannequins. 

“What do you see?” Jonouchi pokes him, rising out of his seat slightly as he strains to get a better vantage. 

“There’s only two officers this time,” Honda replies, leaning forward. “Maybe some of the same ones who came by on Wednesday.” 

“What do you think they want?” Ryou ponders aloud, rubbing his chin with his hand. He leans into his palm, slumping in his seat as he stares off into space. 

Yugi’s gut twists, churning with internalized anxiety and paranoia. His eyes are fixed on the door, unblinking and wide as a doe’s. Clenching his hands, he grips the loose fabric of his pants in an attempt to settle the shaking. 

“Do you think it's bad?” he asks his friends. 

“Bad like…bad news?” Jonouchi clarifies. When Yugi nods, his jaw sets and clenches, before he answers, “Not necessarily.”

“Do they think it's one of us?” Yugi trembles, wrapping his arms around himself. 

“What?” Jonouchi’s surprise is genuine. “Think what's one of us? She's just missing dude. She'll turn up. Maybe that's what they're here to tell us about. That they found her safe and sound.”

“Yeah, don't think the worst, bud.” Honda claps Yugi on the shoulder, giving a gentle but firm squeeze. 

The Principal’s door creaks open, and Miho is ushered out into the hall. She looks confused and uncomfortable, but takes the empty seat next to Yugi. Taking the end of her ponytail, she pulls on the ends of her hair, twirling them between her fingers. A stress relief tick. 

“Bakura Ryou, please step into the office.”

Rising apprehensively, Ryou glances back at his friends before vanishing behind the closed door. Muffled conversation emanates from the other side of the wall. 

“So…?” Honda is the first to break the silence. 

Miho doesn't even seem to hear him. She's deep inside her own head, spinning in thoughts unknown. 

“Miho?” Yugi taps her thigh, trying to draw her attention to Honda. “What happened in there? What did they say?”

Her breath hitches, and she bites her lower lip. Chewing it anxiously. “I’m not supposed to say.”

“Why not?” Honda rises from his seat. He stands in front of Miho, before squatting down to look her in the eyes. “Did something happen?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers, as tears gather in her glassy eyes. “But I just get the worst feeling.” 

Honda pulls her into a hug, sweeping a hand comfortingly across her back as she shakes. Yugi looks like he wants to reach out, to find some way to reassure her, but he feels even less composed. 

_I just get the worst feeling…_ Her voice echoes, bouncing around his brain as it registers. Whatever they asked her, whatever they talked about - it was bad. 

_You have no idea._ That deep, cocky voice drowned out everything. It filled Yugi’s ears and pounded his skull so loudly it might have been his own thoughts. A shiver ran up his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck quivered. 

_Then tell me,_ Yugi shouts back into the void. He wants to match that confident tone, that easy manner...but even his own thoughts betray his frayed nerves and deep-rooted fear. 

Then came a chuckle, a dark laugh that fills Yugi’s heart with dread. The spirit is amused.

 _Oh, but I’m enjoying this little game,_ it replies, and suddenly Yugi feels ice cold fingertips drag the length of his cheek. _Patience, little boy. You’ll find out soon enough._

The office door opens silently, and Bakura shuffles out. His face is ghostly white, perhaps even more pale than usual. 

“Jonouchi Katsuya,” the principal calls. 

Wordlessly, Jonouchi rises from his seat, hands shoved deep into his pants pockets. His eyes connect with Bakura’s as they pass one another, reading into the worry that’s creased around his irises. Understanding and processing what he’s about to be told. 

The door shuts again, but the sound feels heavier. Like a jail cell door slamming shut. Bakura and Miho stare straight ahead, catatonic. Honda paces in short circles near the corner, gripping the lapels of his jacket. 

No one dares speak. Only the clock on the wall dares break the silence, each flick of the second hand cutting through the tension. 

Then Jonouchi’s voice rises above a muted muffle. It’s a shout, a plea. “He should hear it from us.”

It’s the only thing the group is able to decipher, before the conversation drops down to an indiscernible mumble. Miho and Bakura stiffen, unconsciously glancing Yugi’s way. An action that doesn’t go unnoticed. 

_Maybe they know,_ the spirit continues, a hint of a smile in his teasing drawl. _They know and you don’t._

All of the color drains from Yugi’s face. His eyes drop to the floor, and he gasps at his pants again, knuckles turning white. _Stop it,_ he thinks to the spirit. 

_Never._

Jonouchi storms out of the principal’s office, his aura swirling with anger and despair. Through the door, Yugi can see the officers flailing, debating whether or not they should chase after the teen. It swings closed on their defeated, tired faces. 

“You’re up,” Jonouchi hisses at Honda, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. 

Eyes narrowing, Honda stalks towards the office. Disappears through the door quietly. 

“Argh!” Jonouchi yells, punching the wall. The cracked plaster crumbles around his fist, dropping to the floor in tiny, splintered pieces. He reels back and throws hit after hit, pummelling his way into the dry wall. 

“Jonouchi,” Miho cries, running and grabbing his arm. “Stop, please.”

Silence bleeds in again, and the clock strikes the hour. Outside they can hear the bell tower’s chime, ringing cheerfully across the courtyard. 

“We’ll miss our English test,” Yugi murmurs, mostly to himself. He didn’t study for it anyway. It was almost impossible to focus on anything as of late. 

“That’s the least of our problems,” Jonouchi replies through gritted teeth. “Who cares about that now.”

Honda’s time inside the office is much more brief. He’s in and out relatively quickly, with little fuss. By far he’s the most composed, but no one is surprised. 

“Muto Yugi,” the principal calls, holding the door open for the group’s smallest member. 

The room seems to fall away around him as he rises from his chair, sucked away into a black void. Yugi can’t tell if it’s real, the spirit toying with him, or a byproduct of his anxiety. Fear gnaws at this stomach, twisting and churning it uncomfortably. 

He can feel every set of eyes on him, boring through his skin like acid droplets. Absently, he wonders if the glares are hateful, piteous, or...something else entirely. He refuses to look and find out. 

As he shuffles forward, towards an uncertain fate, he craves Jonouchi’s optimism and Honda’s support. Longs for those quiet moments in class, now long buried in the sands of the past. Memories where even Anzu was present and happy.

And now…?

As he brushes past Principal Shoto, Yugi takes stock of his office. Tries to memorize, it carve the little details into his brain. He’d been there many times before, but never for something as serious as this. Dropping test scores, bullying incidents...it all seemed so small in perspective. 

The room is square, perfectly angular with clean lines and smooth surfaces. Almost everything inside has a cold glow to it, due in part to the cloudy weather. But there was a sterility to the furniture and objects, which reminded Yugi of a doctor’s or dentist’s office. Thankfully it lacked the strong smell of ammonia and fluoride. However, the stench of death lingered, clinging to the men’s clothes and tracing along the edges of the documentation they carried. 

Death...

“Please, have a seat,” Chief Inspector Tomori gestures to the pair of plastic chairs standing before Principal Shoto’s desk. Yugi slides into the one positioned slightly further away. 

As Principal Shoto begins to shut the door, Yugi waves him off. “Leave it open. Everyone else knows, right?”

Tomori squints, sizing Yugi. His lips pinched in a firm line beneath his walrus mustache. After a beat, he nods to Principal Shoto, who releases the doorknob. It swings back, but doesn’t fully open. Jonouchi, Honda, Bakura, and Miho lean over, morbidly curious. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we’ve called you back here,” Tomori begins, taking a casual seat on the edge of the principal’s desk. 

“I think I have a guess,” Yugi sighs, deflating. A fatigue begins to settle over him, draping around him like a shroud. 

“I see,” Tomori nods, plopping his stack of manila folders onto the desk. He sorts through them, and pulls one from near the top. Flips it open, and rifles through the pages. 

Yugi catches a glimpse of his own name, and several photos. Some as recently as a few days prior. 

“So you and Anzu...you’ve been close a long time, right? Childhood friends?”

Yugi stares down at his hands, as tears collect in the corners. “Yes,” he whispers. “Since elementary school.”

“Your mother mentioned you used to walk to school together.”

“We did,” Yugi’s voice trembled, and he cursed the emotion behind it. “Her house isn’t far from mine.” 

“Why did that routine change?” Tomori presses, his eyes flicking up to lock onto Yugi’s. They’re cold but sincere. 

“I dunno. We grew apart a little, I guess. Started to lead separate lives.” There’s a pause. “Is that unusual?”

Tomori shakes his head. “Just asking. Covering every base.”

Yugi swallows, glancing towards the other officer in the room. He’s also unnaturally casual, leaning against the corner with crossed arms. 

“Ah, apologies for my rudeness. My associate over there is Officer Takahiro. And my name is Chief Inspector Tomori. Domino Precinct.”

Takahiro bows stiffly, but says nothing. Yugi returns the bow, remaining seated. 

“Did you love her?” Tomori leans closer, looking deep into Yugi’s teary eyes. 

“W-what?” Yugi gasps, flinching. His breath catches, and his heart thumps unevenly in his chest. 

“Did you love her?” The question is pointed, blunt as a butter knife. 

Outside in the waiting area, plastic squeaks as chairs shift on the linoleum. 

“I…” Yugi starts, choking on the question. The fluorescent lights above him flicker, and a ghost of a rumble rolls through the room. 

Tomori and Takahiro glance up, sizing the flickering lights. Tomori seems to react more strongly, as he slowly rises up from the desk, glancing wildly around him. 

There’s a sound like static as a shadow begins to form in the doorway. Electronic feedback emits a high-pitched keening sound, and the room’s occupants flinch, covering their ears. 

The dark figure begins to form into a shape, a feminine outline. Recognizable features bleed through the inky black, revealing hauntingly pale skin, shockingly blue eyes, and wet, dripping hair. 

Anzu Mazaki, her visage scarred by death. Clothes soaking wet, clinging to her curves. 

Tomori’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open. Yugi registers this, and looks over his shoulder. But he doesn’t see anything. 

Anzu’s image flickers, ghosting forward. She’s suddenly standing next to Yugi, her soul hovering mere inches from his elbow. She looks down on him, her expression unreadable. A mixture of several emotions. 

“Puzzle,” she croaks, a hand raising to point at the pendant around Yugi’s neck. Her neck twists so she’s staring directly at Tomori. “Puzzle.”

Her voice doesn’t come from the image of her ghost though. It manifests in the hissing feedback of Principal’s phone and computer. An EVP. 

It sounds just enough like her to send shivers up Yugi’s spine. 

“Must be the radio. Interference,” Principal Shoto insists, unplugging the surge protector from the wall. Simultaneously, all electronics shut off. Only black mirrors stare back at the room’s occupants. 

With the disconnection, Anzu also disappears. Tomori rushes forward, waving his hands through the air. Through the space where she would have been. 

“What are you doing?” Takahiro asks, clapping a hand on Tomori’s shoulder. This seems to snap Tomori from his daze.

“I thought…” he begins, but shuts his mouth. The muscles in his cheeks flex as he clenches his jaw. 

Yugi looks up at Tomori, his eyes glassy. There’s a faraway look to them, like he’s no longer fully there. But the sound of his heartbeat continues to pulse loudly around him. 

“She’s dead, isn’t she?” he says hoarsely. His voice monotone, devoid of any emotion or reaction. 

Tomori, Takahiro and Principal Shoto all lock onto Yugi. Shoto seems to show some concern, but Tomori fields the question. 

“Yes,” he confirms, returning to stand in front of Yugi. Gauging his reaction to the news. 

Yugi’s head falls into his hands, and he cries out in agony. Sadness and grief well in his chest, and the pressure feels like it will tear him in half. The emotion is overpowering, nearly unbearable. His heart aches in a way he never thought it could. 

Principal Shoto looks moved, and attempts to go to Yugi. To comfort him. But Takahiro holds him back. Even Tomori’s brows knit, his face etched with a combination of pity and and empathy. 

As his cries quiet, Yugi’s breathing slows, hitching with every stifled tear. Removing his shaking hands from his face, he sees them covered in blood. Pools dripping from his palms, running onto the floor and staining his clothes. 

“Arrest me,” Yugi begs, red, swollen eyes fixed on his trembling hands. “Please.”

“Why would we arrest you?” Tomori starts, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “We only came here to--”

“Because I did it. It was me.”

And as Tomori sizes the small boy in front of him, he sees that the kid actually believes that. Is convinced of the fact. The runt, the one you never give a second thought about...might actually be the one you need to worry about. 

There’s a shuffle, movement by the door. Jonouchi and Honda appear, leaning into the room with incredulity. 

“What are you talkin’ about, man?” Jonouchi approaches Yugi, putting a hand on his shoulder. But Yugi smacks it away. 

“Don’t touch me, please!” he cries, withdrawing into himself. Trying to make himself as small as he can be, like he’s trying to disappear. 

“Yugi…” Jonouchi gasps, appalled. This wasn’t like him at all. 

Yugi thrusts his wrists forward, pressed together. “What are you waiting for? Cuff me.”

“Young man, I’m not sure you understand what you’re asking. Take a moment, you’re in shock, and--” Tomori begins, but Yugi is insistent. 

“I know what I said, and I know what I’m asking. Please,” he pleads, “I need to be locked up. It’s not safe anymore. I don’t know what he’ll do.”

Tomori blinks. Registers this. “He who?”

The lights flicker again, and then shatter. The glass explodes outward in a concussive blast, raining shards down on the room’s inhabitants. A rumble pulses through the room, rattling the blinds, furniture, and upsetting stacks of folders. A small, china Maneki-neko clatters across the desk, inching closer and closer to the edge. 

White knuckles grasp the arms of the chair as Yugi screams. There’s pain and fear and sorrow in his voice, and the pendant around his neck begins to burn white hot. 

“Yugi, are you--?” Jonouchi begins to ask, but is cut off when he begins to choke. Red finger marks streak across both sides of his neck, as an unseen force crushes his windpipe. His body is pushed back against the wall and upwards, sweeping his feet off the floor. 

Honda too is shoved aside, flying backwards towards the door. His back hits the edge of the door, and there’s a crunch as his spine connects with the unforgiving metal. He cries out, groaning as he struggles against the force. 

Tomori scurries back, away from the boy in front of him. Eyes wide with panic, unable to process the impossibility he’s witnessing. 

The golden light grows stronger, spreading over Yugi’s body. Washing over his arms and legs, seeping deep into his skin. Searing itself inside him like a brand. It bleeds into his eyes and mouth, radiating from his core.

And suddenly Tomori watches as all traces of the teenage boy disappear. The wide, childlike eyes. The cheeks that still had a roundness to them. A mouth that seemed used to smiles and laughter. None of that remained. 

Cold, blood-red eyes glared back at him, full of hunger and lust and confidence. His demeanor became cocky, taunting in a haunting way. His face became wizened, appearing older despite his small stature and thin frame. And that happy smile turned dark, stretching into a smirk. 

Cracking his neck, Yugi chuckles. “This is going to be fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 is finally up! It's taken a hot second, but I finally got through it. It's been sitting half-completed in my Google Drive for months...life just got in the way. 
> 
> I think the biggest challenge with this scene was writing Yugi's reaction to Anzu's death. How would he cope? We never get to see him really worry and wonder in the series and in the comics. But I suppose I have more time to dive into that. The next chapter is going to focus more heavily on their relationship growing up. It felt like a logical next step to him Yugi grieve her and come to terms with not only saying goodbye, but trying to seek restitution for her in the present.


	6. Saying Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A retrospective looking back on Yugi and Anzu's friendship, and their final goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in the hiatus between posts, I sped through THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE. And it is INCREDIBLE. It's such a beautifully told story, and was very influential when it came to shaping the next couple chapters of JEKYLL. 
> 
> The thing that Hill House does so well, in my opinion, is create tragedy for it's characters in a very human, relatable way. They're fleshed out in this very real way, and their lives and memories shape them and personalize their nightmares in a way that seems so organic. It's something I want to emulate, and I think it's something Takahashi himself would have liked too.

“What’s something you can show, but you can’t see?”

A little girl in a plaid summer dress hovers over her smaller, male playmate, shoulder-length brown hair falling like curtains on either side of her face. She cocks her head, bright blue eyes full of wonder and curiosity. 

She thinks for a moment, index finger pressed thoughtfully to her lips. “I don’t know,” she answers truthfully, “Can you give me a hint?”

“You’re not even going to guess?” her friend sighs, shrugging off his backpack. 

Unbuttoning the leather flap, he swings it open to reveal the contents. It’s a messy jumble of games, cards, and a yellow box. It shines in the sunlight, flashing gold. 

As the reflected golden light dances across her face, she blinks, leaning forward. “What’s that, Yugi?”

“Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.” Yugi smiles widely, crossing his arms over the top of his backpack. His chin rests on his forearms, and he watches her dreamily. 

“Is it love?” Anzu asks, kneeling down in the grass in front of him. The afternoon light catches on the ribbon in her hair, dazzling Yugi. 

His face turns beet red. “Anzu! N-No, that’s not it!” he stammers. 

“No?” she wonders. “My parents show each other love all the time, but they never let me see it.”

Yugi’s lips press together, quivering as his heart thumps unevenly. He pulls his backpack tightly to his body, as if trying to stifle the noise. “I...I guess that answer works, but it wasn’t the one I was thinking of.”

“Well, what is it?” she smiles, leaning on his arms as her face moves closer to his. Their noses brush together, and Yugi blushes even harder. 

“Uhh,” he stalls, scooting back. “I meant friendship. Friendship is something I show you, but you can’t see it.”

“Hmm,” Anzu hums, nodding. “That’s true.” Then, she giggles, throwing her arms around Yugi. “I’m so glad we’re friends. This has been the best summer ever!”

“M-me too,” he laughs breathlessly, hugging her back with one arm. He pats her shoulder nervously. 

“Alright, so now you have to show me. What’s in the box?”

Yugi’s arms move away from the lip of his backpack, and he carefully lifts the golden box out. It’s covered in symbols, rough pictures and squiggles that neither child has ever seen before. A large, stylized eye adorns one side of the box. 

“It’s my treasure,” Yugi says as he places the box on the grass between them. He removes the lid, revealing golden metal pieces of varying shapes and sizes. Their reflected sparkles catch on Anzu’s face, matching her shimmering eyes and dazzling smile. 

“It even looks like treasure, Yugi!” she hoots, picking pieces out and inspecting them. “Like a pirate’s booty. It’s gold and everything.”

“Mm,” Yugi agrees, selecting a few of the pieces himself. “But you wouldn’t find something like this on the high seas. Well, maybe a sea of sand. Grandpa says this box came from Egypt.”

“Egypt?” Anzu holds a single piece up in the sunlight, using it to block the rays from her vision. 

“It’s a country in Africa. On the other side of the world.”

A summer breeze stirs the trees around them, the rattling leaves sounding like the shifting grains inside a rain stick. The grass beneath them waves like kelp, tousled along in the invisible atmospheric current. Flower petals drift like snow, dead fragments lingering from spring. 

As Yugi smooths a thumb over one of the metal pieces, he hears a lone shawm playing a melancholic melody. In his mind’s eye, he imagines the sweeping dunes of the Sahara, and the misting sands that give way to the green and brown waters of the Nile. In the distance, he can faintly see the outlines of the pyramids, the limestone guardians of the Valley of Kings. It’s a haunting yet mystical setting, so very different from the clean, urban cityscape of Domino and Japan beyond. 

“Hey Yugi, this is a puzzle isn’t it?” Anzu begins clicking her pieces together, trying to get them to connect and lock into place. 

Yugi snaps back into reality, the spell broken. He drops his pieces back into the box, as he nods. “It is.”

Anzu giggles, a small blush creeping into her cheeks. “It figures your treasure would be a game.” She clambers to her feet, swaying as she rocks on her heels. “It’s a good thing I’m really good at puzzles. We could work on it together?”

“Eh?” Yugi blinks, “Really? You’d want to?”

“Of course.”

She offers her hand, which he accepts gladly. When she pulls away, the remaining pieces sparkle in his palm. 

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she smiles, turning on a dime, and marching off towards the perimeter of the park. “It will be our little game, you and me.”

Quickly packing up, Yugi trails after her, trying to hide his flustered expression. They make a funny pair -- she striding with confidence and ease, while he flutters around her like a moth to a flame. Two children who, by all accounts, couldn’t be more different. But somehow they worked together. 

\-- 

Two years later, as the scorching summer heat gives way to cooler temperatures, falling leaves, and ashen skies, Yugi and Anzu toil away in his second-floor bedroom. It’s a Sunday, bleak and unfit for outdoor play. But not that the children wanted to be outside anyway. They had a project...no, a _mission_...to complete. 

“I think...this one and this one,” Yugi guesses, pointing to two pieces. The entire box has been dumped out onto his desk, and he and Anzu pour over them one by one, trying to make some progress. 

Anzu’s delicate hands sweep them up, her fingers steady as she tries various approaches. The two pieces meet, seeming to fit, but pull apart when the force of her hands is removed. Like two magnets, pushing each other away. 

“This is impossible,” she grumbles, running her fingers through her hair as she leans away from the table. Stretching, cracking her stiff back. “We’ve been at this for hours.”

“Nothing is impossible,” Yugi insists, taking up two separate pieces. “Just highly improbable.” He tries to force them together, his brow creased with determination and persistence. 

“Did you read that in a book?”

“Grandpa told me.” Yugi turns one of the pieces, coming at the joined parts from a different angle.

“Well, I think those pieces are highly improbably never going to fit.”

“They’ll fit. They _have_ to.”

Anzu groans, pushing one of the loose pieces across the desk with her fingertip. “What if it’s some elaborate prank? Like, an ancient guy designed the most difficult puzzle, knowing full well it could never be solved?”

Yugi looks at her with a pained expression. “That would be a cruel joke.”

“Exactly. So what if this puzzle is just some nasty old guy’s last laugh? And he circulated those terrible stories about it so people would be drawn in, intrigued by the curio surrounding the artefact?” 

“Hmm,” Yugi murmured, exchanging one of his pieces for a new one. “Maybe. But I know this puzzle can be solved. I _feel_ it, Anzu.”

Her blue eyes study the pieces, irises trembling with a combination of emotions. Tenseness, frustration, and burning curiosity. 

“I wish I felt something.”

Yugi breaks his intense gaze away from the puzzle, turning to look at the girl to his right. A girl who he could feel drifting away from him, and from their game. A girl who was becoming so beautiful, and who was more than aware of that fact. 

He considers reaching for her hand, but thinks better of it. Those words, what she said...they had two meanings in his mind. 

_I wish I felt something._

Emotions stir within Yugi, as a memory surfaces. A freeze frame, life moving in slow motion. Anzu, the moment he first saw her on the playground. Her hair short, barely to her chin. A pink butterfly clip sparkling in the afternoon glow, shimmering rainbow colors as the glitter catches the light. And that smile, brighter than anything else, as she kicks her feet forward, the swingset carrying her higher and higher into the sky. 

He hadn’t been old enough to understand that he loved her in that moment. But with the maturity and wisdom that collected over the years, he now knew that he did. He’d always loved her, in the purest, lightest way. With unflinching devotion and an admiration that would never die. 

But in that maturity, he also knew he loved her like a doll. Admired from afar, rarely touching it so not to marr its surface with fingerprints or dirty smudges. Appreciating the exterior more than the interior, favoring the color of her hair and the blush of her cheeks over her hopes and dreams and interests. 

A part of him knew that wasn’t fair to her. The majority of his soul smothered that knowledge, pushing it deep down as he strove to understand her love of music and dancing. Wishing he could internalize it, and become as passionate about it as she was. But that wasn’t who he was -- and before long, he had to be true to himself. 

Mazaki Anzu wasn’t a gamer, either, as they both were coming to understand. So it was inevitable that they would eventually grow apart. 

That didn’t stop Yugi from professing his feelings, however. The night before, he’d mustered up all of his courage and laid his heart bare. It was a risk, peeling back those layers of introversion and caution, but he had to take a chance before the chance slipped away. Before they became two strangers again, with nothing but a half-complete puzzle and hazy summer memories to remind them of the way things once were. 

_I wish I felt something_ , she’d said, her expression twisting into one of pity. Like she felt uncomfortable telling him that, as if she _owed_ him something. Perhaps she thought she should have a better answer for him -- something to do more justice to their friendship and time together. 

“Maybe someday you will?” he propositioned hopefully, offering a small smile. “Just give it time.”

But in their hearts, neither one of them believed that was going to happen. Time wasn’t going to change things for the better. Not for the puzzle, and not for the pair of them. Doomed to be stuck somewhere between friendship and love, always hiding half of themselves away from the other. 

Little did Yugi know that Anzu was the reason the puzzle wasn’t coming together. The dark game wasn’t meant to be played by two. 

\--

In a world where time stands still, Anzu sits alone on one of the seats of a swing set. Her brown loafers drag in the sand, creating little canals as she drifts back and forth with the slight breeze. 

It’s the playground of her childhood, the one from her primary school days. She remembers the bright yellow and green structures well, worn and scuffed from use. It had been her castle once. 

She looks up, to see the echo of her younger self as she runs along the suspension bridge. Her father rattles it from the ground, making to grab her ankles as she runs past. Little Anzu shrieks in terror and delight, as he laughs. 

A single tear slides down her cheek, falling silently as she longs for the comfort of her father’s arms. It’s too easy to forget the small, seemingly insignificant moments like those. She wished she’d remembered it before she died. She could have taken one more walk to that playground with him, and played together with her father. Pretending a decade hadn’t passed, and she was still his little girl.

“Anzu?” a familiar voice calls out to her, soft like rattling leaves carried by an autumn breeze. 

She looks up, her blue eyes flashing as more tears gather along the lower lids. “Yugi! You came…” Her hand swipes at her eyes as she tries to clear them, but the waterworks won’t be stopped. 

Tears fall in a steady stream down her face, collecting beneath her chin as they drip onto her skirt. 

“Is this a dream?” Yugi asks, looking around. He blinks, seeming to recognize his surroundings. “The playground where we met?”

“It’s not a dream,” she reassures, patting the open swing beside her. “Join me, won’t you?”

He shuffles over to her, rising onto his tip-toes as he jumps onto the seat. Wincing as he comes down on the plastic, his shorter legs swing just above the sandy ground. 

“Not as comfortable as I remember,” he groans, shifting his weight around. Adjusting as he tries to find a sweet spot that doesn’t hurt his hips. 

Anzu laughs, a genuine outburst only slightly tinged with sadness. “I thought that too.”

“We’re not kids anymore,” he chuckles, swinging his legs as he builds momentum. Back and forth. Back and forth. Like a pendulum, pushing time forward. 

“Guess we’re too old for this stuff.”

Anzu continues to hover in her seat, tracing a pattern in the sand with her shoe. “You’re never too old to swing,” she finally answers. 

“Mm,” Yugi nods, continuing his rhythmic swing. He’s found a pattern now. His eyes are fixed on her as he rocks back and forth, his legs rising and tucking beneath him. 

Every time he passes by Anzu, she seems to grow younger. Losing a year each time he passes by her. Her dark circles evaporate, her eyes grow a little bigger, and her freckles pop back onto the bridge of her nose. 

Before long, she’s the little girl from his first memory. The one with the butterfly clip in her hair. 

He takes a leap, flying off of the swingset. For a split second, he can fly, hand outstretched, reaching for the sun. His body is as high as the roof of the playground. But like all things, it comes tumbling down, tethered by gravity. 

Landing hard, the wind is knocked out of him. Panting, he pushes himself to his knees, gasping as scrapes on his palms sting. He turns over his hands, registering how small they’ve become. 

Clambering to his feet, he rushes over to the metal slide, looking into the distorted finish. It reflects back the warped image of a child -- of himself, on the day they first met. Wild, black and red hair, with a tangle of blonde bangs in the front, and amethyst eyes as wide as saucers. 

Anzu jumps off of her swing seat, tripping over to him in the clumsy manner that five year-olds do. “Are you okay? I was so worried!”

She throws her arms around him, crashing into his chest with her full momentum. Yugi skids, but hugs her back with the same intensity. His arms tighten around her, and his face buries in her shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry, Anzu,” he sobs, holding her close. “It’s all my fault. All of this.”

She tries to pull back, but Yugi holds her tight. Refusing to let go. “Yugi…”

“I did this to you,” he cries, shutting his eyes against memories that threaten to bleed into this moment. Memories that aren’t his own. Memories of her body, floating lifelessly in the ocean. 

“No, you didn’t,” she assures, stroking his hair. “That wasn’t you.”

“But it was _my_ hands. My body.”

“And not your soul. Or your mind.” She pushes a finger onto his forehead and his chest as she says each item. “Those are the things that make you you. And the Yugi I know has always been kind, and shy. A little cowardly. Always making excuses why he won’t ask for help.”

He doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. 

“I wish you would have asked me for help,” she pulls back, placing her hands on his shoulders. “This curse doesn’t have to be yours to bear alone.” 

“I don’t want anyone else to suffer,” his voice hitches, and he looks down. Unable to look into her eyes. But Anzu cups his chin, and forces him to truly see her. 

“You can’t make anyone do anything, Yugi. That’s not how people work. But you can encourage them, inspire them, and rally them. Your power has always been unity. Bringing people together. Just look at Jonouchi and Honda and Bakura and Miho...you’re the glue that binds. And that unity…that’s what’s going to break this curse. You’re never on your own. You just have to be open letting your friends help you.”

“But…” his lip quivers, “I can’t lose anyone else.” 

“No one is ever really lost,” she smiles. “I’ll always be with you.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not the same. I don’t want the memory of you…”

“No,” she interjects. “Not my memory. My soul. It’s in the puzzle.”

Yugi looks stunned, his breath taken away. He takes steps back, retreating. “What…?”

“My soul. Is in the puzzle.” 

And with her words, the scene fades away, erased like pencil on paper. The reality collapses, until there’s nothing but blackness and ancient limestone bricks. A crypt, cold and devoid of warmth. 

Anzu is no longer the little girl from his memories. She’s her teenage self, dead and blue and drowned. Clothes and hair dripping wet, her blue eyes unseeing and lifeless. 

She reaches out for him, grabs his jacket, and pulls him towards her. Her forehead presses to his, wet and slimy. 

“Shatter it, Yugi. Promise me. Promise me you will.”

“I--” he starts, but is cut off with a kiss. Anzu’s frozen lips taste like ice and formaldehyde. 

It was a moment he had longed for, but never wanted it to be like this. 

“Shatter the puzzle. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

She releases him, and he falls away into the darkness. Hovering above him, she watches as he disappears into the depths of the shadows. 

_I love you. Goodbye._


	7. The Walking Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get a chance to see things from the spirit's perspective, and the events in Principal Shoto's office progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many of you have commented asking about Atem. 
> 
> Part of the mystery of this story is the question "what's going on in his head?" Why does he do what he's doing? Well I hope this sheds some light. He'll be more involved in the story from now on, I promise. :)
> 
> Continuing my HILL HOUSE influence, I wonder if that's apparent?

_Who am I?_ a voice echoes in the darkness. 

A spirit floats in the shadowy void. White, utterly colorless, devoid of any features. Just a simple orb, a blip in a black ocean. 

_Who am I?_ it asks again, with a distinctly male voice. It’s deep and authoritative, but colored with uncertainty. Hesitance. Confusion. Like the soul is groping for details, an answer...anything. 

The orb stretches, contorting into a body. Arms and legs extend, growing fingers and feet. Clothes appear, created in the light. A navy blue school jacket, matching pants, a blank tank-top…

The spirit grabs at the shirt, looking down as he studies it. It doesn’t feel right somehow. Uncomfortable, unfamiliar. He can’t place his finger on the reason why. The jacket feels equally stiff, the shoulders starched and rigid. It’s confining, this outfit, like handcuffs. An identity that’s pressed upon him. 

_Is this me?_ he thinks to himself as he reaches up, feeling his face. His hands comb through wild spikes of hair, before brushing bangs away from his eyes. His fingers trace along thick eyebrows, which are furrowed in an expression of discontentment. Angular eyes narrowed in suspicion sit on both sides of a pointed nose, slightly upturned. 

The appearance, the facial features, are more familiar. But he still isn’t sure that’s what he looks like. It’s the face in the mirror he sees in the rare moments he’s able to surface, returning to life in a borrowed body. 

The first night he awoke, gasping for air like a dead man longing to breathe, memories flooded into his brain. Painful memories, lonely memories. They played like a film whose strip was caught in the projector, rushing through at speed. He could retain bits and pieces, but the download was exhausting. 

It was someone’s life. Seventeen years of someone’s life, condensed and compressed and jammed into his head. 

Muto Yugi. That was someone’s name. 

“Yugi,” he breathes, repeating the borrowed name. It hangs there in the air, surrounding him and clinging to everything in the room. It is there in the unmade bed sheets, twisted and tangled from a restless night’s sleep. It is there in the doodles in his notebook, in the toys on the shelves, and in the clothes in the closet. 

It was not in the puzzle box, however. Nor was it attached to the pendant that hung around his neck. Those things were not belongings, beating to a different pulse and stealing moments, senses and air from the boy called Yugi. 

No, the puzzle was the one thing that was recognizable. It called to the spirit, humming with danger and bloodlust.

 _Home,_ it reminds him. _This is where you belong. Where you sleep until you’re called._

For the first time in a very long time, the spirit felt pain. It spread across his cheeks and eyes, collecting in patches at the corner of his mouth, along his jaw, and in his stomach and arms. This body ached, peppered with bruises. Places where the blood pooled beneath the surface, leaking from internal injuries as it struggled to repair itself. 

Something was affixed to his lower back. He could feel it there, hard plastic digging into the flesh. Tiny needles gripping like teeth. Pushing back his jacket, he follows a clear cord with his fingers, groping the sensor. Searching for a way to remove it. He tugs at the corners, crying out as it holds fast, pulling painfully at the bruised skin.

 _Leave it,_ someone commands. A deep, gravelly voice, distorted as if through a filter.

“But what is it?” the spirit asks, blinking in surprise at the sound of his voice. It’s younger than he’s used to. 

_This body is defective,_ the voice spits, its tone venomous. _So frail and weak._

The light goes out in the spirit’s eyes as he draws into himself, searching the borrowed memories for information. 

“It’s a glucose monitor,” the spirit blinks, coming back to reality. “He’s diabetic.” 

His lips press into a grimace as images race through his mind. Yugi, as a little boy, trembling, shaking as his blood sugar levels dip. A recalled memory of numbness in his mouth, heavy limbs, weakness, and dizzy spells. Moments when the child was so ill he passed out at school, dropping like a fly while others carried on around him, unaware. 

A feeling like pity washes over the spirit. His heart aches for the boy, twinging with emotions he can’t fully comprehend. He doesn’t know Yugi, and yet...he’s intimately aware of his presence. He can feel his sleeping soul, buried deep inside his chest. It glows like an ember, emitting warmth and comfort. 

_As I said, the body’s broken,_ the voice confirms, booming loudly in the spirit’s ears. _But no matter. It will suffice...for now._

The body’s legs sway, and then stumble forward. Lurching awkwardly, as the spirit struggles to get a hold of its motor controls. The room spins around him, and he clenches his jaw as nausea builds in his throat.

“What do I need to do?” he asks the puzzle, balling his fists as he limps forward. A hand flashes out, catching the doorway as he loses his footing. White knuckles grip the doorframe as he breathes heavily through his nostrils. 

A picture burns into his mind, a still from a memory. A large, brutish teenager stands over Yugi, his smile stretched into a creepy grin. _Ushio,_ the memory tells him. A bully, a threat to this body. 

_You know what you have to do,_ the voice commands. 

The spirit’s eyes flash up, bright red like fresh blood. With a stiff nod, he sways down the stairs, stopping to grab a kitchen knife as he reaches for the front door. 

The chilly night time air was good for the spirit. He felt more in his element, drinking in the freezing, dewy atmosphere. The knife danced in his hand, as he twirled it between his fingers. He wielded it more for reassurance than for offense. The spirit and the puzzle couldn’t be sure of this body’s capabilities, at least not yet. 

Thinking of this mission as a test drive, the spirit wandered to the school yard, fading into the shadows of the cherry tree. Waiting until the midnight hour, when Ushio was to meet Yugi, and money was to exchange hands. 

_He has no idea what’s waiting for him in the dark,_ the spirit thinks, tracing the knife edge with his index finger. A small drop of blood streaks down the digit, leaking from a pinprick near one of the joints. 

Right on schedule, the bully appeared at the gate, his giant, hammy fists encircling the wrought iron as his dark eyes search for his prey. There’s a hunger in his look, a hunger the spirit understands well. 

He bleeds out of the shadows, holstering the knife in Yugi’s boot. Silent as the night, he stalks forward, embracing the challenge before him. 

“Good of you to come, Ushio,” he chuckles, palming the puzzle. Drawing the darkness from it, allowing it to surround him. A golden glow illuminates Ushio’s face, as the third eye burns brightly against his forehead. 

The night filled with Ushio’s terrified scream as the shadow game ran its course. The first soul of many, claimed by the Millennium Puzzle. The darkness demanded sacrifices, craved them. And the spirit had no choice but to oblige. 

That was the price of his existence. Walking among the living meant delivering the dead. 

\--

“I need to be locked up. It’s not safe anymore. I don’t know what he’ll do,” Yugi cries, gripping the metal arms of his chair. The room shakes, vibrating like a train is passing by just outside the window. 

The boy’s voice reaches the spirit, and his heart hurts. He can feel his pain, the anguish and sadness and heartbreak as it screams through him. 

_I’m sorry,_ he thinks aloud, his voice drowned in the void. _I don’t want to do this._

The shadows inside the puzzle writhe, excited by the commotion. They sense the light of five souls, some within arm’s reach, and begin to salivate. Their tendrils wrap around the spirit, suffocating him as they reach for control. 

_Stop it,_ Anzu orders, as she flickers to his side. _Release him._ The darkness hisses, recoiling as she swats it. 

_You have no command over the shadows_ , they growl, agitated. Lashing out in fury and hunger. But Anzu doesn’t blink, doesn’t bat an eye. They can’t hurt her anymore. 

_Like hell I don’t,_ she roars back, thrashing like mad. 

The spirit’s red eyes follow Anzu, watching her with curiosity. Of all the souls the puzzle has swallowed over the years, hers is the strongest-willed. The one who refuses to fade away. 

He opens his mouth to say something to her, but finds himself spirited away. Drawn up and out of the darkness, and into Yugi’s body. 

Gasping, he draws that first breath. The hardest one to take, like waking up from a bad dream. He lets his head hang limply, as he adjusts to the body again. Re-familiarizes with its inner workings, as a driver would do in a rental vehicle before hitting the gas. 

_Kill,_ the shadows order as they crawl along his skin and bleed into his mind. The voice is silky, persuasive. _KILL._

The spirit smirks, his eyes locking on the man in front of him. Mid-fifties, with graying hair and a walrus mustache, draped in a beige trench coat. His dark eyes are wide with terror, his body positioned in retreat.

The spirit spies a police badge, pinned to his lapel. Obscured partially beneath the floppy, upturned collar of his coat. 

“This is going to be fun,” he chuckles, cracking Yugi’s neck. Rolling his shoulders, he rises from his seat, drawing from the puzzle’s energy. 

“Wha--What are you?!” the man in front of him gasps, edging further and further across the desk surface behind him. “You’re...not human are you?”

“I am the shadow who clings to the light,” the spirit replies, flicking his wrist. The man skids across the mahogany desk, sliding over the edge and crashing to the floor. His head clips on the desk chair as he falls. 

“I am the one who fights.”

Jonouchi moans as he fights to speak, clawing at his neck. His face burns red, vessels popping on his forehead from the strain. 

Without looking over his shoulder, the spirit cocks his head, and the two boys slide to the ground unconscious. It wasn’t their time, but he couldn’t afford to have them in the way. 

“St--stay back!” one of the room’s occupants orders, drawing a gun on the spirit. The barrel shakes, trembling in the uncertain, terrified hands of the wielder. 

“Or what? You’ll shoot?” the spirit asks, cocking his head sideways. “Go ahead. I dare you.” 

A beat of silence passes between them. The older man climbs back up, using the desk as a crutch as he rounds the corner, gunning for the spirit. 

“It's not your turn,” the spirit hisses, sending the man flying back into the wall. The trench coat seems to hold him in place, pinned by the collar.

The younger man quivers, his lips twitching as he wheezes ragged breaths. “I--” he starts, removing the safety. 

The spirit approaches him, squinting as he reads his badge. “Takahiro-san…the game begins.”

With a snap of his fingers, the room changes. Warping and distorting, as the shadow beneath the spirit grows and splits. The snaking tendrils of darkness shoot across the floor, climbing the walls and ceiling, trapping the pair inside a bubble. 

“This-this can't be real,” Takahiro cries, his back flat against the wall. He adjusts his grip on the gun, his palms slick and clammy. 

“Pull the trigger and find out.” The spirit grasps the barrel of the gun, pressing it to Yugi’s forehead. 

Sweat beads on Takahiro’s forehead, sliding down his temple as he shakes. Teeth clenched, eyebrows knit in alarm as he panics. His youth and inexperience worn on his sleeve like the lovelorn heart of a hopeless romantic. 

“Do it!” the spirit yells, grinning widely. 

Startled, Takahiro reflectively squeezes the trigger. The gun kicks, nearly flying out of Takahiro’s hands as it fires. The bang is deafening, the sound overblown. More of an explosion than a shot. 

Yugi’s body relaxes, his eyes returning to normal. Purple and wide and innocent. A trail of blood trickles between them, tracing the curve of his nose before dripping off of his upper lip. As he stumbles backwards, Takahiro sees the large bullet hole, previously masked by the gun’s barrel. Like a tunnel, bored deep into his skull. Fragments of tissue and bone and brain are visible through the entry wound. 

Takahiro watches as Yugi reaches up and touches the wound, studying the wet blood on his fingers. When Yugi’s eyes lock back onto his, he sees that they're empty, lifeless. 

And Takahiro screams. Screams bloody murder. 

The spirit smiles at the sound, his lips twitching with a mixture of pride and accomplishment. Perched on the edge of the desk, he watches Takahiro as he suffers in his own personal nightmare. A delusion created by the shadows, as they eat away at his soul. 

“There was too much fear in his heart,” the spirit explains, adjusting to face the older man. “He belongs to the shadows now.”

The older man lifts his chin, defiant. Silently, he judges the boy before him, wary of any sudden moves. He understands that this boy wanted to play games -- he just had to surmise the rules and the intention. 

“Is that how you killed Mazaki Anzu?” the older man asks. “With a game like that one?”

“Mm,” the spirit hums, looking the man up and down. “You're a clever one. What is your name?”

The man bites his tongue, staring down the boy before him with disdain. 

“No matter, I'm sure it's here somewhere,” the spirit chuckles, sweeping his hand through the haphazard stack of manilla folders. 

He flips open the top file, revealing several photos of Yugi. The spirit pauses, catching on the primary case image -- Yugi’s yearbook picture. It really captures his childlike, goofy essence, down to his lopsided smile, mismatched jewelry, and messy hair. 

“Yugi,” he murmurs under his breath, fingers sliding slowly across the glossy surface. It's almost reverential, this action. Something the older man doesn't let go unnoticed. 

“Chief Inspector Tomori,” the spirit reads, looking up from the file. “That's you isn't it?”

Tomori remains silent, sullenly watching as his partner Takahiro slowly goes insane mere feet away. 

“Is he going to die?” he asks, nodding towards his partner. 

“Perhaps.” 

Takahiro screams, falling to his knees as blood drips from his eyes. 

“Definitely,” the spirit corrects, squatting down so that he’s level with Takahiro. Taking a handful of his hair, he roughly yanks the young man’s head back. “There’s darkness inside him. The shadows must sense it.”

“So what are you...are you passing judgement on him then?”

The spirit’s ruby red eyes shift, zeroing on Tomori. Narrowing. 

“Who are you to judge others?” Tomori continues, struggling against the invisible bonds that hold him against the wall. “What gives you that right?”

Something flickers in those blood red depths. A hint of a memory, an echo of a real soul. Recognition. This was an answer the spirit knew.

“It’s my divine right.” And with that, he takes Takahiro’s jaw and twists, snapping the young man’s neck with a sickening crunch. 

The kind of sound a bundle of celery makes when it’s cracked in two. Wet, stiff, and wrong.

And as Takahiro's limp body hits the floor, Jonouchi stirs awake. His muddy brown eyes struggling to focus as Takahiro's blood pools and creeps towards him. They widen as he realizes what it is, and register the dead man lying mere feet away. 

"Honda!" Jonouchi whispers, his voice barely more than a breath. His lips are frozen, his face paralyzed with fear and shock. "Honda, wake up!"

Army crawling slowly across the floor, he reaches out to his unconscious friend. Shakes his shoulder, gently slapping his face. 

"Come on, man!" he sighs, stealing glances towards Yugi and Tomori. Hoping not to draw their attention. 

Thankfully, mercifully, Honda's eyes flutter open. He's disoriented, struggling to keep focus as Jonouchi's face blurs into view. 

"Jou--?" he starts, but Jonouchi claps a hand over his mouth. Holding a finger to his lips, he gestures for Honda to stay quiet, shifting his eyes towards Yugi's back. 

Although confused, Honda analyzes Jonouchi's fear. Understands what he should do. Jonouchi nods stiffly, tilting his head towards the door. The only way in and out of Principal Shoto's office. So Honda begins to crawl, as quickly and quietly as he can. Jonouchi lies still, holding his breath, his eyes locked on Yugi. 

As soon as Honda is clear, he pushes himself to his knees. Squatting low, he hides behind the corner, offering his hand to Jonouchi. They clasp onto each other, and Honda pulls Jonouchi free. 

Hearing heavy footsteps behind him, the spirit flinches, turning to look over his shoulder. He barely catches the bottom of Jonouchi's shoe as it disappears around the corner and into the hallway beyond. 

_They're getting away!_ the shadows hiss, shrieking in his ears. 

But the spirit stands frozen, uncertain as to the best course of action. He doesn't cry out to them, and doesn't pursue. He just shuts his eyes, letting the rage and discontentment burn through him. 

Taking a deep sigh through his nose, he begins to turn back toward Tomori, but is met with the plastic and metal sphere of a globe. 

Tomori swings, a heavy blow only just weakened by the day's events. It connects with its mark, cracking against Yugi's cheek.

Suddenly, everything goes dark.


End file.
